


Storms on a Cloudless Day

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [15]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Starts Off Happy, THIS IS AN ANGST FIC, angry piotr, beach themed fic, but doesn't really end that way, but this is angsty, don't crucify me pls, edited at 3 am because i'm great at making life choices, enjoy the whiplash, from winter to summer real quick, human piotr, i mean it does, i'm warning you now, no one dies or gets physically hurt btw, persecution of mutants, piotr in a swim suit is the best piotr, so many feelings, thank you, the first few scenes are a trap, this is not a commentary on racism or privilege
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You and Piotr take the students at Xavier's to a beach with a few other teachers to celebrate the end of the school year.The day starts off great.It almost doesn't end that way.(Set post the Christmas trio I just put out and "The Road is Long and Fraught With Pain.")





	Storms on a Cloudless Day

The sun is blazing overhead, but it’s barely noticeable in the face of the strong breeze whipped up by the glittering blue-green lake in front of you. Stretches of beige sand lay between you and the water, inviting and daunting all at once --you’re not looking forward to finding sand  _everywhere_  later, but you know it’s going to be worth it. The waves lapping against the shore are gentle and smooth, making the conditions for swimming perfect.

It’s idyllic. Tranquil. The epitome of peace.

Right up until the moment that fifty piercing, exuberant screams fill the air.

Normal beach goers might attribute the audio disruption to a particularly vengeful flock of seagulls, but you know better. The noises belong to none other than the group of students from Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, who are utterly thrilled to be at the beach for a day.

It’s the annual end of the school year celebration for the students. Each year, right before Xavier’s lets out for the summer, the teachers and caretakers at the mansion pack up all the students and take them to the beach for a day. The students spend the day swimming and playing on the beach, then pass out on the bus ride back to the mansion.

You’d asked Piotr if there was some secret planning involved with the trip, an agenda to purposefully wear the kids out, to which he had merely smiled and shrugged.

The beach itself is located on a pro mutant settlement --an anti-Harmony, one might say. The little city is remarkably quaint, dotted with family owned shops and restaurants, and is always happy to see the kids visit each year.

You can only smile fondly as the kids dart towards the water, having already drenched each other in sunscreen. Despite their boundless enthusiasm, they really are adorable. You love working with them.

Ororo shouts after the students to walk instead of run, then shakes her head and jogs after them.

You squeeze your boyfriend’s hand as he says what you assume is the same thing to Sasha and Katya in Russian. “So, what’s the plan for the day? Are you going to swim?”

He shrugs once he’s satisfied that the twins are listening to him. “I am not sure, honestly. This is my first year coming. I need to translate for twins until their English is stronger.”

“Why didn’t you go with before?”

“I prefer being indoors during summer,” he says. “I don’t like very hot weather --and I burn easily.”

You chuckle as he starts rubbing one hundred SPF sunblock on his arms. “Here, let me get the back of your neck. Are you wearing the shirt all day?”

“I think so. It lowers risk of burning.”

“Shame. Your abs are to  _die_  for.” You smirk as the tips of his ears turn bright red and start slathering him in sunscreen, careful to get it an inch or two under the collar of his shirt in case the fabric shifts. “Why not just stay in metal mode? You won’t burn that way.”

“I don’t like sinking in the sand. Plus, I may not feel heat, but my armor gets very hot very quick. I would not want to inadvertently burn children.”

“Good thinking. Trips to the ER or the in house clinic at the mansion usually don’t spell out ‘celebration.’”

He raises an eyebrow at you and grins. “Usually?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure it does for Wade. That’s the only logical explanation for his constant stream of injuries.”

He chuckles and nods. “ _Da_. Let me get back of your neck now.”

You smile to yourself as you starting covering your arms and legs in sunscreen. “I’m glad I’m past the worst of my episodes now. I missed out last year because I didn’t want to risk it.”

Piotr kisses the back of your head. “So am I. Today would’ve been less fun without you here.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Da_. You make my days brighter,  _myshka. Moya solnstse_.”

You can’t help but smile, utterly love struck, at him and tilt your head back to kiss him.

He kisses you back, which is a shock in and of itself considering he never goes out of his way to initiate public displays of affection around the students. Maybe it’s the knowledge that they’re all distracted right now, or maybe you mentioning your recovery has him all mushy, but his lips linger against yours in a tender, marvelous, chaste kiss.

At least, until dozens of small voices --and Wade--start making obnoxious retching noises.

You break the kiss with a laugh and tug at your boyfriend’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go join them.”

 

* * *

 

Playing at the beach is unbelievably fun, even if most of your time is taken up with making sure the kids don’t accidentally drown themselves. You mostly sit with the youngest kids while they make sandcastle, opting to let the other chaperones wrestle the more enthusiastic kids --and let Nathan wrestle Wade.

The merc had been a little hesitant to have his scars on display, right up until a young girl with similar scars from her own mutation had bounded up to him, gushed over their ‘matching,’ and declared him her best friend.

You can’t help but smile softly as Nathan presses a gentle kiss against Wade’s cheek, no doubt murmuring something about ‘I told you that you looked fine’ --then join in with the kids’ retching at the sight of affection.

Hey, it’s only fair. Wade had done it to you earlier.

Watching Piotr, though, is an absolute treat. It’s not the same as watching him shirtless, but his swim shirt still clings to his chest in a number of distracting, sexual thought provoking ways as he stands in the shallows with some of his art students.

That, and watching him with the kids is adorable in a way that warms your heart and destroys your ovaries.  _Dammit, Piotr. Why do you have to be so fucking attractive?_

At least you know that watching you work with kids has the same effect on him. It took a little finagling, but a few months into dating you got him to admit that he really,  _really_  like watching you work with the students and residents at Xavier’s. It ‘gives him visions of future,’ to quote him.

It was sweet to hear --mostly because you felt the same way--but you also liked to use it to your advantage whenever you could.

You catch his eye for a moment; you’re sitting with a couple of preschoolers, helping them build a sand castle, and he’s in the shallows with Katya and Sasha. You smile sweetly at him, which he returns, but you don’t miss the excited, just barely concealed look of hunger in his eyes.

You’re  _so_  getting screwed into his mattress when the day is done, and you’re looking forward to it.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost time to grab lunch when Timothy plants an  _excellent_  idea in your head.

“Do you think you could tackle Mr. Colossus into the water?”

Honestly, you think you could, if it weren’t for all the kids around. You don’t want to knock someone over with an air current or with the tackle itself.

But, then again, you don’t have to specifically  _tackle_  him. The goal is just to get him in the water, right?

“I’m not sure I could tackle him, per say --but I can definitely get him in.”

“How?”

You grin and wipe sand off your legs and hands as you stand. “Watch and see.” You walk up behind Piotr and wrap your arms around him. “Hey, babe.”

He turns in your arms so he’s facing you and kisses the top of your head. “ _Privet, myshka_. Are you enjoying beach time?”

“Yeah. It’s really great here.”

You’re not sure what tips him off --probably a combination of Timothy moving the other students out of the way and your devious smile--but he suddenly regards you with --admittedly deserved--suspicion. “ _Myshka_. What are you up to?”

You hold onto him tighter and brace yourself for what you’re about to do. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

He tries to free himself --then latches onto you with a yelp when you lift both of you off the ground with an air current. “Y/N!”

You giggle as you float over to some deeper water. “You know I love you, right?”

Piotr’s head whips back and forth as he looks at the water, at the cheering crowd of students on the beach, and at you. “Y/N -- _myshka_ \--don’t--”

“Can you swim?”

“ _Da_ \--”

You grin and angle the two of you so he’s guaranteed to get completely soaked. “Sorry, babe, but if I have to be wet, so do you.”

He opens his mouth to respond, then lets out a scream when you let the two of you drop.

The water isn’t terribly deep, but it is freezing cold compared to the heat of the day. You bob to the top and wave to the crowd of delighted mutants on the beach.

Piotr surfaces next to you, sputtering and probably not as peeved as he should look, all things considering. “Why?”

You shrug and place a peck on his cheek.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until lunch that you notice something is up.

You’re all together as a group at one of the concession stands. The teachers are helping order for the kids and ushering them to nearby picnic tables. On the menu are hot dogs, burgers, fries, and other easy to make, summer-y food --much to Piotr’s dismay.

You don’t notice it until you’re about halfway through the line, standing behind Piotr as he translates the menu for Sasha and Katya.

A few of the locals are standing on the sidewalk across from the food spot, watching --no,  _glaring_ \--at the group of students. They’re talking quietly to each other and nodding as their eyes track the amorphous, bouncing crowd.

And that’s... weird. Concerning. Both. Because this is  _supposed_  to be a safe spot for mutants. The workers at Xavier’s have been bringing students here for  _years_. If the people here were going to complain about having a bunch of mutants in town for a day, they would’ve done it by now. Right?

You don’t say anything as you sit down and start eating --but you do keep an eye on the crowd.

They’re on their phones now, tapping at the screens or talking to people.

When someone takes a picture of the group, your stomach drops. No matter what their motivations, taking secret pictures of  _kids_  just doesn’t sit right with you. There’s no logical explanation for it as far as you can tell.

You elbow Logan in the side --you hadn’t managed to snag a seat with Piotr--and tilt your chin imperceptibly towards your audience. “They’re taking pictures of us.”

Logan growls under his breath as he sizes the small cluster of locals for a moment. “Probably taking pictures of Wilson. Or Kurt.”

And that... makes sense. It’s not polite, but it makes sense.

“Assholes,” You mutter as you bite into your burger.

“Yeah --especially with the kids around.” Logan shoots a pointed glare at the leering gawkers, then goes back to his food when they dissipate. “That should be that. If they try to follow us to the park, I’ll handle ‘em.”

You try to let that be that, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

You’ve spent enough time with Wade to know when someone’s staring at him, and this doesn’t feel like any of those times. People might seemed horrified, or disgusted, but  _never_  pissed.

And Kurt’s been a resident at the mansion for years now. Surely the locals would know him, know he’s not actually a blue demon and is just a shockingly friendly German mutant with a taste for teleporting on top of people when they least expect it.

Still, the group’s gone; there’s nothing to worry about now, and you don’t want to alarm the students either.

You force yourself to relax and resume eating.  _It’s nothing_ , you tell yourself firmly.  _Just a few assholes. Nothing to be worried about_.

 

* * *

 

The next stop is a nearby parked, within view of the beach. The students enjoy darting all over the massive, brightly colored play set. Wade agrees to play jungle gym tag with the kids and delights in teaching the kids how to clamber around in new, dangerous ways.

You squeeze Piotr’s hands as he watches the students mimic Wade. “Relax. He’s got a good eye on them.”

Piotr exhales, just a little, when Wade catches a kindergarten student that had been slipping and gently sets them on the ground. “I keep forgetting how good he is with children. Probably because he acts like one.”

“You keep forgetting because he acts like a kid, or he’s good with them because he acts like a kid?”

“ _Da_.”

You laugh at his attempt to be funny, but it quickly dies when you notice something odd.

There’s a group of people watching you again. Not the same ones from the beach front concessions stand, but the look is the same. Phones out, hands covering their mouths as they talk to each other, eyes fixed on the group of kids in harsh glares.

“Excuse me, for moment,  _dorogoy_.”

“Oh, right. Go ahead.” You let go of his hand as he strides towards the playground to help Sasha, then sidle over to Logan. “We’ve got an audience again.”

“I noticed.”

“There’s no overlap from the first crowd.”

“I noticed that, too.” He gestures with his phone discretely. “The town’s got a group text function. They’re supposed to use it for neighborhood safety, that sorta shit.”

You eyes narrow as you watch one of the women tap at her phone rapidly. “I don’t like this, Logan. This is weirder than just ‘two guys look abnormal, let’s tweet about it like assholes.’”

“Who’s an asshole?” Nathan asks as he walks up to you and Logan.

“We’ve got some watchers,” You mutter. “We had some at the beach, too.”

“Figured they were gawkin’ at Wilson,” Logan grumbles as he eyes the small crowd. “But I’m starting to doubt that now.”

Nathan frowns as he stares at the group --and the frown deepens quickly as he tenses. “They’re not looking at Wade. They’re watching Piotr and the twins.”

That’s... odd. But not good.

“Why?” You hiss as you focus on your boyfriend and the Russian twins he adores so much, determined to keep an eye on them from now on. “The fuck do they care?”

“Don’t know. Not close enough to them to get the deep shit.”

Of course, the one day you’d left Jean at home, you needed her here.

“We should get out of here,” Logan growls as a couple of the onlookers start snapping pictures. “I don’t care how long we’ve been coming here, taking pictures without people knowing is fucked up. Especially with kids around.”

You nod, more than happy to agree. “Let’s get the kids back to the bus.”

 

* * *

 

It takes some effort to round up the kids --who are understandably disappointed at having their free time cut short--but you and the group of teachers manage it.

Nathan sends out a group text, alerting all the adults and the eldest teen chaperones to the situation. 

Ororo makes up a convincing story about a storm coming --and an even more convincing explanation about constantly shifting the weather being bad for the needs of the environment--which persuades the most stubborn students to board the bus.

Piotr’s gone tense by now, carefully watching the steadily growing group of people that are slowly following you. His hand his heavy on your shoulder, gripping it tightly, as he ushers you towards his car. “Get in,  _myshka_. No arguing, please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You whisper as you lean closer to him. You’re panicking a little by now --you’ve seen looks like these before, you’ve been the target of them, and having it happen when you’re so far away from home, in a place that’s supposed to be safe, is freaking you out.

“Breathe,  _moya lyubov’_.” Piotr kisses the top of your head as he reaches for the passenger side door. “We will be back to mansion soon enough.”

“Hey!” A man shouts behind you. “Big guy! In the red shirt!”

Piotr slowly, hesitantly turns, putting himself between you and him even though he can’t armor up right now --well, he  _could_ , but he’d likely shred his clothes in the process, and while you (and Wade) wouldn’t complain, most of the students (and staff) probably would. Technically, you know he  _would_  if he had to, it’d just be awkward --“ _Da_?”

The man sneers at him. “You’re Russian, aren’t ya?”

And that’s... an odd detail to ask about.

It apparently strikes Piotr that way too, because he frowns. “I beg your pardon?”

“See!” A woman snaps as she storms towards the students --making Logan unsheathe his claws, just to be safe. “I told you! You can hear the accent.” She lifts her hand--

And throws a  _fucking Molotov cocktail_  directly at your boyfriend.

You scream, terrified, and use an air current to lift both of you out of the way.

Fortunately, her shot is way off. It lobs harmlessly over the car and lands several yards behind it, shattering and igniting on the pavement.

Logan growls and takes a couple steps towards the woman, pointing his claws at her as he speaks. “The fuck is your problem?”

“He’s a fucking Russian!” Another person screams. “And so are those two little bitches!”

You can feel Piotr tense in your arms as you float the two of you back to the ground. You know he hates crass language being used around children, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that what’s gotten him here is listening to an adult describe two  _children_  in such a heinous, inappropriate manner.

Wade applauds. “Congratulations! You passed 5th grade geography! That still doesn’t explain why you thought it was a good idea to launch a glass bottle filled with flammable liquid with a burning rag shoved in the top at a person. I mean, a solid ‘B’ for creativity, but an ‘F-’ for  _thinking things the fuck through_!”

“What, have you been living under a rock?”

“Well, if you count my boyfriend’s rock hard abs, then yes. As much as possible.”

Normally, you’d roll your eyes at a line like that, but it’s made the angry crowd stop and blink in confusion, which you’re more than happy about. Maybe you’ll be able to get in the car --Piotr too--and start driving away before they can fully process what just came out of Wade’s mouth.

No such luck. You should’ve brought Neena, too.

A woman who looks to be in her mid fifties snarls at Piotr as she jabs her finger at him. “The Russians colluded in the election. It’s their fault that the orange shitwipe’s sitting in the White House.”

“I guarantee you, there were plenty of Americans who contributed to that too,” Nathan says curtly. “More than enough of you voted for that dipshit to get him in.”

“No! He lost the popular vote!”

“Learn from history then. Abolish the Electoral College. Take it from someone who knows, it’ll do you a lot of good.”

“Point stands,” the man who spoke first adds. “We don’t want any Russians in our country! They’ll bring us down! They’re spies!”

“Do you even hear yourselves?” Ellie snaps, enraged. “You’re saying the exact same kind of shit that the Conservatives say about Mexicans and Muslims!”

“Except there’s proof of Russian collusion!”

“There’s always proof,” Wade says with an eerie calmness. “Everywhere. That doesn’t justify you taking your anger out on a legal immigrant who had nothing to do with the actions of the Russian government.”

Ellie points at Piotr, fuming. “This guy spends his days saving people and teaching those around them how to be the best version of himself for no thanks or recognition whatsoever. He’s the most decent, kind, generous person I’ve ever met, and you all should be on your fucking knees begging for his forgiveness --and he would actually give it to you, because that’s the kind of person he is!”

“Calm down, NTW, please,” Piotr says, though it’s evident he’s touched by his trainee’s praise.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” Ellie continues, ignoring her mentor. “You claim that you’re willing to welcome in mutants of any kind, but you reject ones just based on what their government does? Because if that’s the case, you should be rejecting all of us --and yourselves, too. Our government has committed thousands of atrocities, but you think you even have the right to hold someone else accountable for what their government does? How fucking dare you!”

“Preach!” Wade cheers.

“You don’t just get to cherry pick us based on where we come from or how tragic our story seems or whatever the fuck you think qualifies as a good system. You get all of us, or none of us!” She storms forward, standing between the bus and them. “You can’t support mutants if you going to cast one of us out for completely bullshit reasons.”

Wade quickly moves to stand up there with her, his number of scars and best ‘I will murder you and tap dance on your entrails’ face intimidating the adults not shamed into silence by Ellie’s speech. “She’s right. No cherry picking. Cherry popping, on the other hand, as long as it’s consensual and legal--”

“Shut up, moron,” Nathan mutters as he clasps onto his boyfriend’s hand, standing with him and Ellie.

You dart up there with Yukio, adding to the growing human shield between the bus, your boyfriend, and the locals.

Logan. Kurt. Ororo. The remaining teachers and caretakers quickly fill in the gaps, until there’s a veritable wall protecting Piotr and the kids.

The once angry protesters now just look embarrassed. Most of them have left in the face of having their asses kicked by dozens of angry mutants. The stragglers size up your group, swallow nervously, and disappear into nearby shops and buildings.

“Everyone, back to the cars and the bus,” Logan growls once he’s sure no one’s coming back out. “We’re going home.”

 

* * *

 

It takes a while to track down Piotr once the students are settled and accounted for. You know today’s upset him, and that he can be difficult to find when he’s upset, but you want to comfort him.

The portion of the ride that hadn’t been spent lecturing Ellie --because, yes, she was brave and noble, but engaging a hostile crowd like that was dangerous--had been spent in silence. He’d been almost glaring at the road, deep in thought, and you hadn’t had the heart to break him out of it.

You have the heart now, though. It’s been nearly five hours, and you know he’ll think himself into a hole if he’s allowed.

You find him a little gazebo hidden in the depths of the gardens, staring out at the lawn of grass as it gently sways in the breeze. His arms are braced on his thick legs, and his face is creased with worry and melancholy. His drawing pad and a few pencils are sitting next him on them bench --untouched, worryingly enough.

You knock on one of the gazebo beams to announce your presence and smile lovingly at him when he looks up. “Hey, babe. How’re you feeling?”

“ _Myshka_.” He holds out a hand to you, drawing you into his arms when you accept. He presses his face against the top of your head, inhaling deeply as he cradles you against his chest.

You can practically feel the sadness oozing off him, and it breaks your heart. You sling one arm over his shoulder and use your free hand to rub soothing circles on his chest. “Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?”

He sighs wearily and presses and feather-light kiss to your forehead. “I have been... thinking. About what happened today.”

“I figured. What’s on your mind?”

He’s quiet for a minute, then stands, carefully sets you on the bench, then sits on the ground in front of you --crisscross applesauce style, like he has his youngest students do, and if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation and his mood you’d be cooing from the adorableness of it. He rests his chin on his fist and looks up at you, expression pensive. “I know I am lucky. Even for a mutant. I come from loving home, I work with wonderful people who respect me, and I have community where I feel safe and wanted. There are many people who do not have this --mutant and non-mutant--when I do. These facts do not escape me.”

You nod to express your understanding. You know well enough by now that he’s absolutely the type to think of others, to think of how blessed he is compared to them, whenever he’s processing his own anger or pain.

He’s humble to a fault.

“I also know that I am not first target for persecution. I am European in appearance. I am a man and conventionally attractive. I have heteronormative-looking relationship. I have no obvious religious affiliation. My mutation can be hidden, unlike Kurt’s or Wade’s. I have no serious physical or mental disabilities.” He pauses, frowning slightly, and sighs. “I am incredibly lucky, is what I am trying to say. I have very good life, here and with you.”

You kiss the top of head gently as he fiddles nervously at his own fingers. “It’s okay, Piotr. You’re allowed to be upset about this.”

“I just don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

“I don’t think anyone could ever fairly accuse you of that, big guy. You’re easily the most humble person I know. You’re allowed to complain sometimes --especially after a day like today.”

His brow furrows. “I would not want to be... burdensome.”

“You could  _never_  be, honey. Now,  _please_ , talk to me.”

He shoulders slump as he relents and he lets his forehead rest against your knees. He clasps his hands on top of his head, making him look like a desperate man kneeling at an altar of prayer. “I just...”

You sadden at the sight of his hands shaking, at the way his knuckles white as he tries to reign in his emotions. You lean forward and hug him as best as you can, smoothing your hands over his massive shoulders and upper back. “Let it out, sweetheart. You aren’t going to scare me.”

He draws in a ragged breath and lets it out in a growl. “How could they dare to do such a thing? Sasha and Katya are just  _children_ ; they did not deserve to be threatened in such a way --or called such  _disgusting names_ \--”

You kiss the top of his head, eyes welling up as you hurt for him. “I know, baby. I know.”

“I mean, if they want to use me as target for their anger, so be it, but it is unacceptable to hang it on children.” He lurches to his feet --careful to not knock into you--and starts pacing around the gazebo as he works out his frustration. “And what did I do to deserve their ire, anyway? I am not representative for Russian government! I do not approve of collusion! They did not stop to even ask me; they were willing to selectively throw away support of mutant kind because of slight! And it is serious issue, I know--”

“It doesn’t make it right,” You finish for him as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“ _Da_. I just... they were willing to throw fire bomb at me. They did not know about my mutation, my armor. They were willing to hurt me, just because of where I am from. Because of what people who I don’t even know did.” His shoulders go stiff and his countenance darkens considerably as he glares out at the lawn. “They could have seriously hurt students. And you.”

“They’re idiots, Piotr. Plain and simple.”

He catches the waver in your voice, and when he turns and realizes you’re crying his face  _shatters_. His entire mood shifts in the blink of an eye, going from anger to guilt so fast that it almost give you whiplash. His blue eyes flash with embarrassed hurt, and he almost shrinks in himself. “ _Moya lyubov’_...” It barely comes out as a whisper, almost inaudible over the late evening breeze. “I... I am so sorry,  _dorogoy_. I did not mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” You insist firmly as you wipe your tears away. Before he can beat himself up further, you dart over to him and wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sad, Piotr. I’m sad for you, and I’m sad with you. But you could  _never_  scare me, honey. I trust you too much for that.”

It takes him a minute to process and accept that, but when he does he curls himself over you, hunching over as he clings to you. “I know I have so much to be thankful for --and I am--but I am so  _hurt_  and  _angry_.”

“I know, Piotr. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way. It doesn’t change your awareness of your privilege, and it doesn’t change your gratitude.”

He’s quiet after that, simply clutches at you while he cries silently.

You clutch right back at him, trying to hold him and reassure him while he finishes riding out the storm of his emotions. “I love you, Piotr. I always will. You never have to hide any part of yourself from me --even your angry side.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhales deeply through his nose as he squeezes you against him, then lets you go so he can wipe at his face. “Thank you,  _myshka_. I appreciate it.”

You dry off your own face, then take his hands in yours and smile up at him. “Let’s go get something to eat, okay? I’m thinking some good, greasy comfort food.”

He grimaces. “Or something lean. And healthy. We already had junk food at beach, remember.”

“It’s been a shit day. That mandates comfort food. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”

He chuckles and retrieves his sketch pad and pencils. “I am pretty sure you just break them.”

“Slander!”

“It cannot be slander if it is truth.”

You giggle as he latches onto your hand again and leads you out of the gazebo. “Point taken. But I’m still feeding you junk food.”

“ _Nyet,_  please. I just want something healthy. You can have what you want, but I want healthy food after the concession stand food.”

“I suppose I can live with that.” You use an air current to propel yourself upwards and press a kiss against his cheek before you drop back to the ground. “But I’m totally putting some fries on your plate.”

He chuckles --not his usual laugh, but he’s recovering--as the two of you stride back towards the mansion. “If you must.”

“I must. I really, truly must.” You lean against him, taking a moment to be grateful that today’s attack hadn’t been any worse than it was, that he’s still with you. “I love you, Piotr.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”


End file.
